Snapshots
by everdancer
Summary: The one night that changed their lives, at first for the worse. But maybe, in the end, for the better. Puckleberry and implied Quinn/Finn. for Baby Mama Drama contest . Probably okay for 13 ages.


**A/N: **I don't own Glee. Duh.

Snapshots

**Rachel's Point of View**

"Did we just?"

"Yeah."

"But I was . . ."

"I know." Puck sat up, the sheets of my bed falling to pool at the base of his chest. "Are you okay?" I nodded but turned away, embarrassed and ashamed. This wasn't me. I didn't just have sex with whomever came along. I had been saving myself for someone that I truly loved, hopefully my future husband. Yet I couldn't say that I regretted the act. It had been passionate and heated, but he had been surprisingly gentle and caring at the same time. He had been a gentleman, and I hadn't been expecting that at all.

"Look, Puck, my dad's are gonna be home any minute now, so . . . "

"I get it." He said, rolling out of bed and picking up his underwear, which was lying across the foot of my bed, tangled with his shirt.

--

Mr. Shue flipped the music on, and opening beats pounded around the room. I stepped in time to the rhythm, harmonizing with Artie's sweet voice as Tina rolled him across the stage. Suddenly, my stomach twisted. Without thinking, I ran out of the room and down the hallway, barely making it to the nearest bathroom in time. It was the second time I had puked that day, and the fourth time this week. I must have caught some virus, although I didn't feel sick as I pulled away from the toilet bowl.

"I know your secret," chanted a high, breathy voice from outside the stall. It was Quinn, leaning against the metal and plastic frame of my stall, her hands resting on the shelf of her 5-month pregnant stomach.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, a little defensively, as I washed my hands. Quinn and I had come to an understanding in the past months – we didn't talk, we weren't friends, but we would help each other when we needed it. Seeing that she had followed me was a shock.

"You've got one in the oven too, Rachel." She said wisely. No, I thought, that was impossible. I wasn't – I couldn't be. Sure my period was a little late, okay three weeks, but that didn't mean – did it? "But it was only the one time."

"One's all it takes," she said, and I hadn't realized that I had spoken aloud until she said that, "I should know." I ran my hands across my flat stomach. Was there baby growing inside of me? Had I been brought down to the level of Quinn Fabray? "I have an extra." She said, waving a thin cardboard box in front of my face. "They come in packs of two, and I only used the first one." I grabbed it wordlessly. "You just pee on it." She told me as I locked the door of my stall closed and opened the box. I followed all of the instructions. The wait was the hardest part, five minutes of agony before the stick would turn the tell-tale blue or pink. Yes or no. When the clock was ticking down the last minute I picked it up carefully, anxious to read out the results and know that it wasn't true. As the last 20 seconds ticked away the door opened.

"Mr. Shue sent me too look –" Mercedes stopped, staring in awe at the stick in my hands. I didn't say a thing to her, too focused on the turning color. It was magenta, getting brighter all the time. Soon it died into a hot pink, and faded from there. Pink. Positive. A positive pregnancy test.

"Maybe it's faulty." I proposed, shaking it.

"The other one in the pack wasn't." Quinn reminded me, rubbing a hand over her stomach.

"Come here." Mercedes said, but before I had a chance to step towards her she rushed forward, hugging me tightly. "Everything's going to be okay, Rachel." She promised, stepping away. "We'll all be here for you, every damn step of the way."

"Thanks," I said, my voice turning quickly into a choking whisper as tears welled in my eyes.

"Who's the daddy?" Quinn asked.

"Noah. Noah Puckerman."

--

"What's wrong Rach?" Puck asked as he followed me down one hallway and up another until we were in the relative emptiness of the back hallway. "What's going on?" he asked, cupping my chin in his hands and turning my tear-stained face into the light that was streaming through a nearby window. He kissed me as I cried, too hysterical to tell him what was going on. "Shhh," he whispered, pulling me into his body. I wiped away the tears and placed my hand in the pocket of my raincoat which had become my normal coat due to random slushy-ing. I dug in the deep pocked for a moment before finding the wand at the bottom of it. I wrapped my hand around it, my firm proof, and removed his hand from my waist, putting the wand into it instead. "What's this?" he asked, turning it to face him. He was silent for a few minutes as I tried to control my crying, the only sounds were my tears and the bustling students in the next hallway over as they changed classes. Soon the warning bell, than the tardy bell rang. We were late to class, but for the first time in my school career that didn't seem like the biggest concern in the world.

"Rachel," Puck finally said, "I promise that I will always be here for you and the baby." That was all I needed to hear. From that moment on, I knew that we were a couple that could last through anything.

--

I felt like an outsider, unwanted and uninvited in the stark hospital room. Jealousy and pity flared together inside of me as I watched Puck hold her, comfort her. Finn, his parents, and her parents were still hours away at a Christian's retreat. She gasped in pain as I watched, curling into a ball as if to protect herself. "It hurts so bad," I heard her whisper. I couldn't imagine what she was going through. She had dealt with the humiliation of a teen pregnancy, the dramatic fall from popularity, the shame that came from the baby's father being someone other than her boyfriend, and the anger of her parents, and now it would all be for nothing. "Oh God it hurts so fucking bad," she moaned, and I knew that she must truly be in pain because she hardly ever cursed, and she never ever took the name of the Lord in vain.

Quinn screamed and cried her way through the next sixteen hours with my boyfriend faithfully standing by her side. Finally, late into the night, her curses became deep, unintelligible moans as she gave birth to her stillborn daughter.

It wasn't until early the next morning that I finally got a moment alone with Puck, who was tired and depressed from the night's events.

"I'm so sorry, Puck." I told him, taking his hand in mine.

"I'll be okay," he said bravely. "Just keep that baby safe, Rachel. I don't think that I could stand this happening again."

"What baby?" We looked up to see his mom standing behind us, his little sister asleep in her arms. "Oh Puck you didn't." matching blush crept up both of our faces as we both avoided her stern gaze. She sighed. "The hospital psychiatrist would like to talk to you and Quinn," she told us, sitting Puck's sister Naomi into the closest open chair. She stirred but did not wake.

"I love you." I whispered. His lips briefly touched mine before he stood and left. Moments later Finn came into the waiting room looking pale and confused. He took Puck's seat, and for a moment I was glad because I thought that that would mean that she wouldn't bring up my news.

"At least you're dating him this time, right?" she asked, sounding both tired and exasperated. I nodded. "How far a long?" she asked. I placed my hand on my stomach, a nervous habit that I had developed.

"Just about two months."

"And scared shitless after what you just saw, right?" she asked knowingly. I nodded, pressing my hand down as if that would keep the baby safe longer. "Stillbirths are rare Rachel, especially after the first trimester. The statistical likeliness of you experiencing it too is like one in a million." She was a nurse, I knew, who had worked on the labor and delivery floor for her entire career.

"But if it happened to Quinn . . . I mean our kids share half their genes. Couldn't that mean something?"

"It's not genetic." She promised. "And even if it was, there's no point worrying. These things are out of your control, Rachel. Now that you're a teen mother your entire life will sometimes seem out of your control."

--

"So x equals thirty nine?" I asked, looking up at Puck for confirmation. It was my last homework problem and I wanted desperately to be done. It was late – almost midnight – and I was tired from being up puking most of the night before.

"Yeah." he said, "and I think that deserves a little celebration." I marked my answer and turned to face him, not expecting to meet his eyes just inches from my own face. Slowly, he moved forward until our lips touched. The kiss was soft, and about to go much farther than just lips when my stomach turned in on itself. I pushed him back and ran for it, crashing into the hallway and down to the closest restroom. My knees slammed down in front of the toilet as I leaned over the toilet bowl, gripping the seat with all of my strength. When I was finished my body was still shaking, brought to the edge from a lack of sleep and an excess of puking.

"It's okay," Puck whispered, gently pulling me against his body as he sat beside me. He was touching me more carefully than he ever had before, and I knew that my shaking was scaring him. "You're okay." I let him pull me in, leaning my head against his shoulder, turning my knees to rest on top of his, my skirt slipping with the motion.

"Your hurt." He whispered, brushing a hand across my knees. There two black and blue marks bloomed, disgusting and painful.

"Just a casualty of constant puking." I told him, letting myself fall asleep in his worried arms.

--

"Did you h-hear?" Tina asked, her voice low and gossipy. "Quinn's back in school." Immediately, subconsciously, I placed my binder over my midsection. I wasn't showing yet, and no one knew except me, Puck, and our parents. But hearing about Quinn made me feel overprotective, like it was bad luck. Irrational yes, but what are pregnant women known for if not their raging hormones?

It had been a month since the sad funeral of Quinn and Puck's daughter, whom they chose to name Judith Loraine Puckerman-Fabray for their mothers. Puck had come back to school immediately, although he was subdued and detached most of the time now. Quinn, on the other hand, had been out for almost a month. I had gone over to her house once, a week ago, when Puck had needed to give her some homework. She had been lying sadly on her living room couch like an abandoned rag doll. She had only been wearing a thin tank top and a pair of short soffees, which accented her soft baby fat and lumped it awkwardly, her body not wanting to take it in and make it permanent.

"H-here she c-comes." Tina murmured. I saw Finn first, his height giving him away in the moving crowds. He was holding her close to his body, as if afraid that she would disappear at any moment. Quinn, once put together and perfectly dressed, was dragging her feet in lumpy green sweat pants and her old gym uniform t-shirt.

When she came to Glee that afternoon everybody was shocked. We had all assumed that she would quit, but no. There she was, going through the motions just like everybody else. The only difference was that when we broke for water and lapsed into conversation she stood apart, not talking to anybody.

--

I stared at the paper, a poster advertising New Directions that Mr. Shue had put up a week ago. Someone had crossed out the title and written over it in neon-pink crayon. According to the graffiti artist, the new name of our Club was "Slut Club." Hardly aware of my actions, I pressed my palms into my stomach, now bowing outward with my son, four months into development. Tears pricked in my eyes and my only thought was to get out of here, this place, before I started to cry. I turned to run – okay, walk with purpose – and the cold ice of a slushy met my face. Shocked, I heard the hockey idiots laughing as they walked away, high-fiving down the hall. I stepped forward and felt my world turn from under me as I skidded on slushy. But before I tumbled to the ground two strong arms caught me and helped me to stand.

"You've gotta be more careful, Rachel." Puck told me. But before I could say another word a strong hand had grabbed my wrist and pulled me blindly into a nearby room. Whoever had their grip on me forced me to sit down on a plastic chair while someone else started to wipe away my slushy facial with a warm, wet towel. Slowly the stinging slushy was wiped from my face and eyes so that I could see my saviors. Kurt was holding the towel while Mercedes pulled out a dry one.

"Thanks guys." I whispered, ashamed of what had happened.

"It's no problem," Mercedes shrugged, handing me the new towel. I began to pat my face dry.

"You guys should be out casting me and you're helping me." I said, wiping the goop away from my hairline.

"Why would we outcast you?" Kurt asked. "We didn't ditch Quinn and we're going to be there for you too."

"But I'm the reason that we're being called slut club now. I mean one person pregnant, fine, but two?"

"I think that's more Puck's fault." Kurt said, smiling a bit. "But it's not like we had the best reputation before anyways."

"Thank you guys, so much."

--

"Rachel?" I looked up from my homework to see my dad standing in the doorway. "Can I come in?" I nodded, and he came into my room, sitting on the edge of my fluffy pink comforter. "I don't know how to say this, Rach, expect bluntly. I know your secret."

"You do?" I had no idea how to react. He wasn't yelling, so I guess that was a good sign. But he wasn't smiling either.

"I went in for the parent-teacher conference today, and Mr. Shuester told me how happy he was that Mike and I have been so understanding of your situation." He explained. That was just like Mr. Shue. "How far a long are you, Rachel?"

"Just past my fourth month." I whispered, putting down my book. He shook his head and sighed.

"Too late for an abortion, then?" but it wasn't really a question. It was why I hadn't told him about the baby. I fully believed in a woman's right to choose, but at the same time I didn't feel able to make that choice myself. Theater was my dream, but I wasn't going to give up a baby to get there. "Why didn't you tell us, Rachel?"

"I was afraid that you'd make me get an abortion." I answered honestly. "I was going to tell you in a week or two." Okay, a little fib at the end. I had no plans of telling them, although I knew that it was going to come out eventually. He nodded, understanding.

"It's a tough path you just chose for yourself, baby girl." He told me. I knew that, being an OBGYN in such a small town, he would know just how tough it would be better than anyone else. As one of the most approachable doctors in the area, his patients were often younger than most.

"I need you to know that your father and I are always going to be here for you. As long as you work towards furthering your education and goals, we are willing to support you in any way we possibly can. Of course, that means our house and our rules, but given your situation I think you'll find it a fair compromise." Fair? It was kinder than I had ever expected.

--

People pushed past me, hurrying to leave after a physically taxing Glee practice, as if they were afraid that Mr. Shue would make them go back to work if they dawdled too much. I sighed heavily, staring at my heavy bag, still lying on the ground. Just bending down to pick it up was a chore nowadays and I didn't think that I had the energy.

"Here," offered a soft voice from behind me. Suddenly, Quinn was beside me, taking the bag easily. But she didn't give it to me. Instead she slung it over her shoulder with her old Cheerios bag.

"Thanks." I muttered, not quite sure what to say to her. We hadn't spoken since that night at the hospital, and I didn't know what there was to say, really.

"It's not a problem," she brushed off my thanks, "I know how much of a hassle it was for me to pick up my own bag." She led me out of the choir room and along the empty hallway. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you." She paused, as if expecting me to say something, but I didn't. "You see, I have a lot of clothes that I won't be needing, but you could certainly use them. I know they're not really your style, but every dollar counts, right?" I couldn't believe it. Quinn Fabray, the girl that had cackled when slushy had been thrown in my face, was offering to do something nice.

"Why are you being so nice?" I asked, following her out of the building towards her car. She looked back at me then, her face serious and sad.

"Because you'll need them before I do." She said, trying to pass her words off as nonchalant when I could hear the pain behind them. I understood. They were a painful reminder of what would never be, something that she did not need. Giving them to me was kind, but it was also a way to get rid of her dark memories.

"Thanks, I guess." I muttered. We had reached her car now. There were two boxes – she took one while I carried the lighter one and we piled them on the sidewalk, where I would be waiting for my dad to pick me up. She dropped my Glee bag on top.

"Well, bye." She said, turning away.

"Thanks, Quinn." I called after her.

She turned, almost smiling. "You're welcome, man hands." She said, but I knew that this time it was a joke, not an insult.

--

Puck squeezed my hand as the doctor squeezed cool blueish goo onto my stomach. It was the end of my six month appointment, the last part of the exam being the ultrasound. Due to football and work, he hadn't been able to come to a single one of my appointments until now. But today he was here, along with my father. They sat beside me, opposite the screen. Puck's hand was tight and safe in my own as the doctor pushed around the gel. Slowly, the moving shapes on the screen began to make sense. As I watched the baby came into focus, an outline against my dark insides.

"Here's the head," the doctor told us. I thought Puck would break my hand, he was holding it so tight.

The baby had been real to me for months now – I had been there for all of the ultrasounds (obviously). It had forced me to puke at least every hour for almost a month, kept me up all night with its kicking, and messed up with my horomones so badly that once I had been reduced to tears four times in a single school day. For him, however, it had been an idea. Something vague and indistinct. I had read that seeing the baby was what made it real for the dad, and watching him I knew that it was true. He hadn't breathed since the monitor had been turned on, hadn't blinked or loosened his grip on my hand.

"Would you like to know the sex?" my doctor asked, scanning over the baby and marking notes on the screen.

"Yeah," Puck said, finally coming back to reality. I had been telling her no for months, not wanting to find out without Puck there.

"It's a boy." She said, smiling as Puck bent over and kissed my cheek at the news.

"Yes!" he cried softly, unable to contain himself.

--

I tossed onto my left side, praying that it would be more comfortable than the last twenty times I'd tried it. No go. I glared at the clock. Had it really been two hours since I'd gone to bed? Two whole hours of twisting and turning, unable to find a comfortable position? I sighed and propped myself up, grabbing my cell phone in the same movement. I quickly pressed speed dial.

"Whaddayawant?" Puck growled, still half asleep.

"I can't sleep."

"Well I can't do anything about that." He pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're the father of the reason I can't sleep." He sighed, and I knew that on the other side of the phone he was dragging his hand through his mowhawk.

"I'll be there in ten." He promised. Within eight minutes he was in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Give me your foot." He insisted.

"Why?"

"Just give it to me." He said, pulling it out from under the covers. He winced, seeing how swollen it was, and began to kneed the tightened muscles.

"That feels so good." I told him, leaning back into the pile of pillows. Slowly, he worked through the knots in one foot and began on the other. Soon, I was asleep.

When I woke up the next morning he was beside me, curled around my body like a protective shell, his hand draped over my midsection.

--

". . . I would just like to say that you guys are amazing." Mr. Shuester said, wrapping up his toast, "And as a first year Glee Club, third place is absolutely amazing." He knocked his glass lightly against Finn's, and everybody else joined in. It was an hour after Nationals and we were all sitting around a table at California Pizza Kitchen to celebrate our success.

"We rocked them!" Mercedes commented before taking a sip of her Pepsi.

"Your solo," Mr. Shue said to me as conversations broke out around the table, "was absolutely amazing Rachel."

"Thanks, Mr. Shue. I re-" but I couldn't continue. My belly, almost eight months a long and becoming more of a hassle by the day, tightened uncomfortably. I took a deap breath, calming myself.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning towards me and catching the attention of everybody else at the table. I shook my head.

"It's nothing." I told them, rubbing the ball of my stomach. "Just Braxton Hicks."

"Whose a Hick?" Kurt asked, confused as almost everybody else relaxed visibly.

"False labor." Puck answered for me, taking my hand in his. "It's just her body practicing for the real thing." I closed my eyes, the last of the discomfort washing away. "Let's go on a walk," Puck suggested, knowing that a change in activity normally ended them. I nodded and let him help me up. As the table began to bubble over with conversation again we stepped out of the restaurant, into the warm June air. I leaned into him as we walked, relying on him for balance. I saw a couple of people watching us, pity in their eyes as they looked at my stomach, saw my age in my face, noticed Puck's mowhawk. They didn't know the first thing about us, but they were judging us all the same. They couldn't know that we had what it would take to make it through. Between my determination and Puck's fierce, protective love the baby would always be cared for, I was sure. But they didn't know that, and I hated them for judging us.

--

"I'm so bored!" I moaned, rolling on to my side. It was halfway through July, a particularly humid and slow day.

"You won't be so bored in a couple of weeks." Dad warned, handing me a sweating glass of lemonade.

"Yeah I know." I sighed, holding the cool glass to my forehead before taking a sip. "And thanks for the drink."

"No problem," he said, sitting on the lounge chair beside me, looking out at the lake below our house. I had spent the summers of my childhood running in the dirt and sand edge, venturing out in our paddle boat, and watching the birds and fish move in their natural habitats. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired." I complained, "but restless at the same time." He nodded.

"That's normal." He told me, annoyingly calm at the news because to him, as an OBGYN, that was just fine.

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better." I quipped.

"Just relax, Rachel." He said, "You still have two weeks to go."

"Fourteen more long, boring days." I said in a monotone voice. "Joy." He chuckled.

"Why don't you get to work on your summer reading?" he suggested, nodding at the discarded book on the table next to me. "You won't have much time for it later."

I glared at the dull book as if it had insulted me. "I'd rather not."

"Then go help Puck build the crib, he's refusing to read the instruction manual." I sighed. That was so Puck. But he would figure it out eventually, and my presence would only delay the process.

"I think I'll just sit here and be fat." I told him, resting my hands on my round stomach.

"Suite yourself."

--

As the rain outside came down harder than ever I felt another contraction wrap around me and pull me down into the dark depths of its pain.

It had been raining off and on for the past week until it became a roaring flood almost two days ago, locking my family, along Puck and his family, in my house. At first we had hoped that the rain would die down, but no such luck. When the dull back aches had begun late that night we prayed that it would be a false alarm, but again the fates had other things in store. I had been drawn, unmedicated, through more than thirty hours of contractions as flood waters rose and the likeliness of us reaching the hospital in time decreased rapidly.

Dad had turned the living room into as close as he could get to a hospital room. Towels and a white sheet had been placed on the couch where I had been placed. Sterilized household supplies lay between the folds of a small hand towel on the coffee table nearby. People shifted in and out of the room. Naomi avoided the area as if it was the plague, running away in tears if I began moaning from the pain of a contraction while she was in the room. Puck stayed by me, a constant in my scary pain-filled world. His mother and my fathers switched off in shifts between sleeping, babysitting Naomi, and keeping an eye on Puck and I in case things began to move faster. Every so often dad would check on my progress "down there". I would be lying if I said that it wasn't awkward. He was my father, and in any other situation what he was doing would be considered illegal, yet here it could be life saving. Luckily, he tried to do me the courtesy of checking while I was howling from a contraction, far too focused on channeling away my pain then on where he was or was not putting his hand. Still, each time he reappeared looking sad before regretfully telling me that I still wasn't near ready to end this pain.

Puck's hand turned white as the contraction drew to an end, starved for blood as I used it to take away a little of my own pain. "I'm sorry Puck," I whispered, exhausted but feeling guilty.

"Don't you apologize for anything." He said, kissing my forehead. "You're such a trooper, Rachel." I closed my eyes and drifted off until, barely a minute later, another tightening startled me awake. I was hardly aware of dad assessing the situation while I screamed bloody murder, my pain only increased by his procedures.

"Get out the video camera," he advised Puck's mom, "it's just about show time."

"I need you to push harder, Rachel." Dad said a while later, his voice calm but demanding. "And go." I sucked in a breath and pushed with all of my might, channeling my energies downward and silently praying that it would be enough. But I had been pushing for almost an hour to no avail, and my exhaustion was beginning to overpower me. He counted down ten seconds before he let my lie back down with a heavy moan. "More, Rachel." He told me. "And go." But I didn't take in a breath. Instead tears began to flow in waterfalls. I was in more pain than I had ever experienced in my life, I had hardly slept in two full days, and I was ready to give up.

"Just let me die." I moaned, closing my eyes as the rain drummed harder and thunder boomed overhead. I was seriously ready to call it quits. I was willing to live out my last moments in torturous pain if that meant that it would be over faster. Anything to be done with this.

"Let's take a little break." Dad suggested.

"Maybe it would help to take a little walk?" Mrs. Puckerman suggested, "just around the room or something, get off the couch for a minute?"

"Her legs are probably no more than jelly right now," I heard dad mutter, "but if she wants to try." I didn't. I didn't want to move, let alone stand or walk.

"Let's try again, Rachel." He said, settling between my knees two minutes later, "but with a totally new approach." He settled one of my heels on the top of the couch, in a niche between cushions. The other Puck's mother took, holding it to the same level. She had set the camcorder on its tri-pod, and in her free hand was a beach towel. "Grab the towel," dad said, "use it to help you focus your energy."

After another half hour of pushing the baby finally began to descend, but far from taking away the pain this only increased it as a feeling like fire exploded. I briefly saw Puck's face pale when I began to scream louder, adding swearing into the mix. I'm sure that Naomi learned many cuss words from her place down stairs.

"Rachel," my dad said ten minutes later, a new urgency in his voice. "The baby's coming out the wrong way. That's why you're having so much trouble. If we get it out quickly everything should be fine, but you have to push as hard as you can to get it out now or it could die. Do you understand?" I nodded, a new fear chilling my spine. After all of this I wasn't about to just let that baby go. "Push as hard and long as you possibly can." He told me, "Go!" Pain like I had never felt before, even in the last few hours, overwhelmed me so completely that I was totally unaware of everything else around me. Somehow I knew that I was screaming, but I couldn't hear it. I heard dad's voice as if from a long way away. "Yes! Again, Rachel, just like that." He urged, and I did. The pain mounted but I kept at it. "Just one more," he promised. Again, pain mounted but this time it when it faded it did so completely, and I felt the round head slip out. For a moment all was silent, and I panicked. But slowly the heart-wrenching cry of my son filled the room, and I breathed easier.

"He's so beautiful, Rachel." Puck promised, kissing my knuckles. I was struggling to keep my eyes open as I watched dad hand him off, just a blur in my sleepy vision.

"You are so brave, Rachel." Dad told me. "I'm so proud of you. You were amazing." My eyes were slowly and continually blinking, and I felt myself slipping into sleep, fighting it so that I could see my son. Suddenly, a warm soft weight was placed in my arms. I opened my eyes one more time to take in his face before finally drifting off to sleep.

--

"It's time for school Issac." I murmured, slipping his sock onto his foot. In twenty minutes my first day of my junior year would start, but right now I was being a mother to my half-asleep one month old, trying to dress him for the day.

"Here," Puck said, slipping a shoe on top of the sock.

"Thanks."

It would be my first year without Puck. He had graduated last year and was now working at a local radio station full time. He was learning the ropes quickly, sure that he could succeed.

Puck drove us to school and I dropped Issac off in the school nursery, part of their early childhood classes, before heading to my homeroom. I stopped by at lunch and then picked him up after class. I was staying for Glee of course, but they didn't stay open that late.

"Isn't he cute?" Mercedes cooed, turning soft at the sight of my baby boy.

"He's angelic." Kurt told me, his eyes drawn to the sleeping infant.

"Thanks guys." I whispered, taking a secret joy at their complements.

--

"Look at the graduate." Puck joked, hugging me as I ran up to him, almost tripping in my cap and gown.

"Shut up." I muttered, burying my head in his chest. He held me close for an instant before a cry of "mommy!" broke us apart. Issac clung to my leg.

"Mazel Tov!" he screamed, proud to remember the words Puck had taught him earlier that day.

"Thanks Izzy." I said, lifting him onto my hip.

"Glee club graduate pictures!" Mr. Shuester called, waving me over. "Bring the Junior member with you." Issac had attended every rehearsal and competition for the past two years (three, if you included his time in my belly) and was now joking called our honorary junior member. I lined up with Tina, Kurt, Finn, and Artie against the back drop of the swirling crowd of our fellow graduates.

"One, two, three, cheese!" Mr. Shue called, snapping the photo.

"Why don't you get in the picture too?" Puck offered, and Mr. Shue handed him the camera with a quick thanks. We repositioned, adjusting to the new number of people, and I dropped Issac into Artie's lap.

"Hey Izz." Artie said, ruffling his curly hair, "Smile now." Puck snapped the picture, capturing Issac's fleeting baby smile while everyone else looked posed and poised, smiling dumbly with pride.

--

"It's so big," Puck whispered under his breath, staring at the vast open space. The loft apartment wasn't really that big. As far as living space went, it was absolutely minuscule, but considering that we were in New York City, and that the lack of walls makes rooms look bigger, yeah I could see how he thought it was big.

"Mama!" Izzy cried, running over to the big window and pressing his face against the glass. "See! See!"

"Isn't it a pretty city, Iz?" I asked, bending beside him and holding him close.

"Pretty!" he agreed. I kissed his soft cheek and swooped him into my arms, sending him into a fit of giggles.

--

"I'm scared," Issac confided in us as we walked into his new school, one of his small hands in either of ours.

"You'll be fine, Izzy," Puck said, swinging his hand as we stepped into the small, bright kindergarten hallway.

"Everybody's just as nervous as you are." I added, studying the doors for his. "This is it," I said, stopping in front of the door.

"You're coming in with me, right?" he asked, his voice small and meek.

"Of course, buddy." Puck told him. I lifted him into my arms, knowing that it would calm his nerves a bit, even if he was really too big to be carried. The room was loud, full of noise and running kids. I tried to make sense of the confusion when I suddenly spotted the teacher, an older woman with brightly colored pins on her shirt. I saw her eyes fall on us, scrutinizing our ages – twenty and twenty two. A minute later she came over to us.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Murphy," she said, reaching out her hand for Puck to shake.

"Mr. Puckerman," he said, "and this is my fiancé, Ms. Berry, and our son Issac." She nodded, trying to look unfazed and failing miserably.

"Would you like to play with the other children?" she asked Izzy, who shook his head.

"He's very shy at first," I explained, "but once he's comfortable you'll wish he'd stop talking."

"Why don't you put him down and let him see the other kids playing?" she offered. "I can go make him a name tag."

"Just give him a minute," I told her, knowing that soon enough he would want to run and play with the others. Separating him from me before he was ready would only be painful and make him wait a longer time before wanting to play with the others.

"Ms. Berry, I think I know what I'm talking about when I say it's better for him to interact with the other children." Her voice was light and casual, but I caught the judgments, based purely on Puck and my ages. She wouldn't be telling an older couple these things.

I handed Issac off to Puck before I retorted in a low, menacing voice, trying to calm my own anger. "Mrs. Murphy I may only be twenty years old but I've known my son as long as any of the other parents here have known their own kindergarteners. I know that you wouldn't be second guessing my judgments about my own kid if I were thirty. Noah and I will not be pushed around just because we were teenage parents so you can take your attitude and assumptions somewhere else." She looked surprised and a little scared, which satisfied me.

"Your son can join the play group when you feel he's ready, Ms. Berry," she told me, "but although you've known your kid for five years, I've been working with kindergarteners for thirty, so I think I have a bit more experience then you do." I snorted, knowing that I had won. It felt great to win.

--

"I do," Noah whispered, slipping a silver ring onto my finger. I heard the rabbi telling us that we could kiss, but we were already too far gone.

"Mamma! Daddy!" Issac called, and we bent to pick him up. We shared his weight, kissing him simultaneously on the cheeks like in a corny movie, before turning to our friends and family. My large, extended family was there on my side, as well as my fellow cast members in the musical I was in workshops for. Puck's family was smaller, so our mutual friends crowded in on his side. It was overflowing with Glee kids, all aged ten years. Most of them didn't sing anymore, but that didn't matter because our bond was so much more than a shared passion for music. And as I looked out at everybody who had come to see us, I knew that this was my happily ever after.

**A/N: ** Hope you liked it.


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